Rule, Britannia!
by fac-me-cocleario-vomere
Summary: At the last G8 summit, America unveiled an actual, working TARDIS. Now, the entire summit is stuck in a collapsing parallel world ruled by Belarus. Fortunately, the rebels can help them. Unfortunately, they have a price: help the British Empire take over.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: Pirate!England, swearing, selfcest, yaoi, implied parallel character death**

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><p>Germany groaned and rolled over. His head felt like it was going to <em>explode<em>.

Gott, he must have been absolutely _smashed_ last night.

He rolled over again, trying to find a more comfortable spot to sleep away his hangover in.

_Stupid America and his stupid speeches that no-one ever listens to and his stupid billion-dollar projects and-_

Wait.

America.

The summit.

_Shit._

Germany opened his eyes, and was met with a rather pretty view. However, it was not of his room, his room_mate_ or even the city view from outside his window. It was a field. A paddock, to be exact. A paddock strewn with the various unconscious forms of the rest of the G8.

Well, he _hoped_ they were unconscious. It would be a tad inconvenient if they were dead.

More importantly, where the hell were they, and what the _fuck_ happened?

Germany cautiously got to his feet, mindful of his pounding head, and began to explore.

It looked like they were on a farm of some sort, but one that had long fallen into disuse. There was an old, dilapidated barn off to the side, and he could see a broken-down farmhouse in the distance. There was also a smoking, twisted pile of metal near America.

Germany was about to return when a flash of silver caught his eye. He limped over to investigate, and upon inspection, found it was not silver, but a pile of steel. Weapons, that is. They were strange weapons, though, reminiscent of the kind of weapons pirates used to use. Further investigation found a small rise which, when stood on, gave a fairly clear view of the tents camped a few paddocks away.

Obviously the farm had not, in fact, fallen into disuse, but was being used for another purpose. It was time to wake the others up. Hopefully they'd be able to leave unseen, and avoid tangling with any of the people in the tents.

The rest of the G8 began to stir, and muttered curses and complaints filled the air.

Germany sighed in relief. They _weren't _dead after all.

Working quickly, he took charge.

"Right. Head count, all of you. We need to get out of here as quickly as possible, and I don't want to leave anyone behind."

Grumbling, they complied.

"Here!"

"Here~"

"Here!"

"H-here…"

"Here"

"Here"

"Here!"

"Here!"

"England's here too, but he hasn't woken up yet"

"And I'm here too", Germany finished, frowning. Something wasn't right.

He counted again.

"Why are there ten people? This _was_ the G8 summit, right?"

There was a rather sheepish cough from behind the other nations, and Prussia came forward, dragging a half-asleep Spain with him.

Germany glared at them.

"So this was _you're_ doing"

"Hey!" Prussia argued, "You dunno that! It could've been anyone!"

Germany rolled his eyes.

"_Bruder_, every time you attempt to pull off something big, you bring Spain and France along. _Every. Time._ You're so predictable I could set my _watch_ by you."

Prussia huffed indignantly. "Well, _I _didn't do it. Maybe it was America. Wasn't his big opening speech about a _tardis_ or something?"

The group all turned to stare at America, who was poking at the lump of metal on the ground and muttering to himself. Germany raised an eyebrow.

"Well?"

America stood up, dusted himself off, and turned to face the rest of the nations.

"Well," he began guiltily, "I think I found out what went wrong with the TARDIS."

France snorted.

"You mean you _actually_ managed to build one?"

"Well, it worked!" America snapped. "Maybe if _someone_," he continued, glaring pointedly at Spain, "hadn't put a _tomato _on it," here he pulled out a reddish-black lump that looked suspiciously like something England would make, "we wouldn't be _in _this mess."

Spain stared back at him.

"Wait, so it actually _worked?"_

"I just _said_ that."

"What, so we're in another world?"

"More like a parallel universe, but _yeah,_ that's kind of _obvious."_

"Like, legit? We're actually in a _parallel universe?_"

"_Duh. _Didn't I just _say_ that? "

Japan tentatively placed a hand on America's shoulder.

"Maybe we should figure out a plan before we argue."

"Whatever."

Germany rolled his eyes and prepared to take charge again.

"Er… Germany, I think you might have miscounted"

Germany turned around, exasperated.

"What is it _now_, Russia? I'm _trying_ to get everything sort- oh."

He stared at the limp form in Russia's arms.

"Is she okay?"

"I think so," Russia replied, "but she was hit the worst by the explosion, so I'm not sure."

Germany sighed. A bunch of squabbling nations was hard to deal with at the best of times, and he _really_ didn't want Belarus to wake up anytime soon.

"Just carry her for the time being. We'll figure something out later."

"Anyway," he began, spinning back around, "we should probably get out of here soon, because- _Italy! _What are you _doing?_"

From his vantage point on the rise, Italy waved excitedly.

"Germany! Germany! There's tents down here! Do you think they'll have pasta?"

_Shit._

Inwardly cursing, Germany sprinted for the rise, only to be beaten by Prussia, who dragged him bodily off the rise and handed him over to Germany.

"Jesus, West, keep an eye on your roommate, yeah? I don't think the people in those tents are gonna be very friendly, on account of them having a gallows an' all."

Germany took a firm hold on Italy and gave his brother a weary nod of thanks.

"Will do."

"U-um… Germany?"

Germany sighed.

"_What?"_

"N-nothing… it's just… I, uh…"

Germany felt like banging his head against a brick wall.

"Spit it _out_, Canada."

"I… well… I can't wake England up. At all. And I don't think he's breathing."

Scratch that, Germany felt like banging _England's_ head against a brick wall.

"Alright, change of plan. Half of us are going to see if they can steal medical supplies or something from the camp down there. The other half are going to stay up here and look after England and Belarus."

The reactions were instantaneous.

"I'm goin'!"

"As the hero, I should go, too!"

America had certainly perked up, Germany observed dryly.

"I agree with America…"

"I'll go. They might have some beautiful women…"

"If Prussia and France are going, I'm going too!"

"I should probably go too, to keep an eye on America."

"Stupid commie bastard! I don't need a babysitter!"

Germany looked around at all the excited faces before him.

"Fine, I suppose you all can go. We'll need to split up, anyway. Italy and… umm…"

"Canada"

"Yes, Canada… You two can stay here and look after the wounded. We'll be back in about an hour. If we're not back by then, get out of here, okay? And Italy, wipe that look off your face. It's not like I'm going to _die_ or anything."

With that, Germany turned on his heel and sprinted over the rise, followed closely by the other nations.

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><p><strong>I know this is a crock of shit, and I know that I should be updating my other fics, but I watched a buttload of Pirate!England AMVs on youtube last night, and my brain has now decided that it wants Pirate!EnglandEngland selfcest.**

**My brain is a separate entity that I cannot control. At all. So here, have some shitty selfcest that won't appear for a while. While you're waiting, have some hinted Ger/Ita. **


	2. Chapter 2

Canada watched them go with a feeling of déjà vu.

Truth be told, situations like these were all too familiar to the members of the G8. Not the parallel dimension part, that was a first, but really, you kind of got used to it after a bit.

Canada was fairly sure he could easily count the number of peaceful summits he'd been to on the fingers of one head.

He sighed, and bent down to check Belarus' pulse. Finding it easily, he moved on to England.

It wasn't there.

_Shit._

Italy sat on the rise, oblivious to the sounds of Canada panicking behind him.

He really, _really_ hoped Germany was going to be alright, which was strange, because the people in the tents were supposed to be friendly, but still.

Maybe the people in the tents were scary like England, or they gave him bad pasta, or, or, they put him in jail because they didn't like him, or he tripped over, or he broke something, or he forgot his white flag, or, or, or-

Italy began hyperventilating.

America could feel the blood rushing to his head.

All seven of them were hanging upside-down from a sturdy timber frame set outside one of the larger tents.

"God _dammit_, France, I _told _you not to go near her! _Now_ look what you've done! We're about to be _hung_, and it's _all your fault_! Just because you couldn't keep it in your pants long enough to grab something and get out of there! Belarus and England are probably _dead_ by now!"

"Oh, hush. You know full well that nations can't die. And she was exquisite, _non_?"

"We're in a _parallel fucking world,_ you _moron_. We could be _mortal_ here, for all we know. And she wasn't even all that pretty. She had _buckteeth_, for God's sake. _And_ she was walleyed. Are you _blind_ or just _stupid_?"

"Ah, but I can appreciate beauty in _all_ its forms. Even _yours_."

America screwed up his face in disgust, and turned to watching the various people running errands.

Strangely enough, they looked almost like _pirates_.

They couldn't be. It wasn't like there was any water nearby anyway.

…Was there?

America wriggled a bit, and managed to turn around so he was facing _out_ of the camp, rather than _in_.

Oh.

Well.

That explained it.

The entire tent settlement was situated at the mouth of a little bay, and ships that looked rather… _piratical_, if that was even a word, were bobbing up and down in the shallows. The whole thing looked like one of those 'secret pirate bases' in the movies. No _wonder_ they'd been so panicked. Maybe if he could just explain-

"Awright. Cut 'em down," a bawdy voice with a _terrible _Yorkshire accent ordered.

"Wha'? Bu' I jus' tied 'em up there!" a second voice whined.

"So?"

"All seven of 'em!"

"So?"

"Do ya' have _any_ idea how long i' took ta do that?"

"Look, I dun' _care_ how long i' took. Cap'n's orders are, _cut 'em down_"

"Bloody good knots, too. Yer' never gonna find any be'er."

"Stop yer' complainin', 'arry, an' _cut th' bloody ropes_! Th' cap'n wants ta see 'em!"

"Well why can't 'e jus' see 'em out 'ere?"

"Ya' can't talk ta someone when they're hangin' upside-down!"

"Well, why no'?"

"Well they ain't gonna listen, are they? Th' blood's gonna be at their 'ead, an' they'll be 'alf gone!"

"_Fine._ I'll cut th' ropes. Bu' you tell th' cap'n tha' he'd be'er make i' worth my while."

"Fer _Chrissakes, _'arry, it's jus' a bloody _kno'_. It's no' _irreplaceable_, ya' know.

'Arry' cut the ropes, and the nations crashed to the ground. Standing up, America came face-to-face(or rather, face-to-chest), with a short, sour-faced man, who was coiling up the ropes they were hanging from.

_Ah. So this is 'Arry'. Kind of a weird name, but whatever._

"You seven, come with me! Cap'n wants ta' see ya'."

The nations followed the burly, moustachioed man through the rows of tents, until they reached the middle, where a large, domed tent sat.

"Cap'n's quarters," he informed them.

He pushed through the flaps of cloth at the front.

"Oi, cap'n! Th' pris'ners 're here!"

"Well don't just _stand_ there. Bring them in," a familiar voice ordered.

"Righ' away, cap'n!"

The burly sailor ushered them into the tent, where a figure sat on a pile of cushions, and stooped to talk to the figure.

"'Arry's bein' a bi' difficul', ya' know wha' I mean? He's a bi' pissed a' me, 'acause of me tellin' him ta' cut th' ropes an' all, an' 'e wants ya' ta' make i' 'worth 'is while', or some rubbish like tha'."

The figure sighed.

"See if you can find an animal or something he can tie up. That should keep him occupied for a while."

"Aye, cap'n."

The sailor retreated out of the tent, presumably to catch something, leaving the figure alone with the nations.

"Sit down, will you? I don't have all day, you know."

The nations carefully arranged themselves in a semicircle around the figure.

Looking up, the man raised one ginormous eyebrow, and addressed the nations gathered around him.

"So. Do any of you mind telling me who you are, and why you look exactly the same as the nations, which, incidentally, _died_ around a century ago?"

**DUN DUN DUNNNN**

**CLIFFHANGER!**

**All four of you that read this have probably already guessed it, but meh.**

**LET ME HAVE MY FUN 8I**

**WHY AM I WRITING THIS SHIT?**

**I **_**HATE**_** DRAMA**

**AND I'M NOT EVEN THAT GOOD AT WRITING**

**(writing accents **_**is**_** fun, though.)**


	3. Chapter 3

America was the first to break the silence.

"Jeez, Iggy," he laughed, "you really scared us for a sec-"

Two pairs of hands covered his mouth, effectively silencing him.

"You _moron!_" Prussia hissed, "That's not _England!_ That's a fucking _pirate!_"

The England-that-wasn't watched them thoughtfully.

"Reincarnations, eh? Where are the rest of you?"

Germany stared at him.

"…What?"

"Well, I _assume_ you're all reincarnations, because there's no other explanation that I can think of for a group of people sitting in my tent, looking, acting and sounding _exactly _like the nations that died around a century ago, and calling each other by names that sound suspiciously like the names of certain countries. I must admit, though, I had assumed that _I_ was responsible for England."

Germany looked around helplessly.

"Er… America? Could you maybe… um… explain things a little?"

America looked up from the headlock he had France in.

"What? Oh, right. Hang on a sec."

Disentangling himself from France and Prussia, America made his way over to Not-England and sat down.

"Well," he began, "it's like this."

"I was watching Doctor Who, right, and-"

"I'm sorry, Doctor _who?_"

"That's right, Doctor Who. Anyway, I had this-"

"What do you mean, 'Doctor Who'? Does he not have a name, or something? And why were you watching him?"

"Look, do you want me to explain this or not?"

"Go on."

"_Anyway,_ I totally had this idea to build a TARDIS, and so-"

"A _what?"_

"A TARDIS."

"What in God's name is a _TARDIS?_"

"Are you gonna keep interrupting me? 'Cause if you are, I'm not telling it."

Germany groaned.

"Just _explain_ it, America. I'm not getting any younger."

"You're not getting any _older_, either."

"_America…"_

"_Fine…"_

America turned back to Not-England.

"Anyway," he resumed, "as I was _saying, _I totally decided we should make a TARDIS thingy, and, like, use it to save the world and stuff, so I got the scientist people from NASA to do it. Turns out I probably should've used better people, though, 'cause it exploded as soon as someone shoved a tomato in it. And it was like, in the conference room in the middle of a summit, so everyone got sucked into some kinda portal thingy, and it spat us out here, in some kinda parallel dimension or something. And that guy with the ropes, 'Arry' or something, is a total creeper. Seriously, why do you even _employ_ him? He's like, _such_ a waste of money."

Not-England looked confused.

"Who, Harry? I don't pay him at _all_. And what the bloody _hell _is a 'parallel dimension'? I don't think I understood a _word_ of what you just said."

"Well no _wonder_ you have crap staff, if you can't even be bothered to pay them. Seriously, are you _stupid_ or something?"

Not-England glared at him.

"Watch your tongue, boy." he growled.

"Or what, you'll _feed_ me?"

"Or I'll _cut it out."_

America went white and shut his mouth.

Not-England looked around.

"Can any of you explain this to me _without_ all the weird language?"

"What I think America's trying to say is that we came from another world."

"Oh, Japan. Didn't see you there. Another world, you say?"

"_Hai."_

"I suppose that _would_ explain it. The whole 'England' bit, though… Is there actually a personification of _England_ where you come from?"

Germany frowned.

"You mean you're _not_ this world's England?"

"Of course not. I might have _been_ England in the distant past, but _I_ am the British Empire."

Spain, from where he was sitting against the tent wall, paled and hid behind Russia, who looked around and smiled at him.

"I haven't seen England as a pirate in _decades._ Isn't it nostalgic?"

Spain nodded feebly. "Very." he replied, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

If he ever got out of this alive, he promised himself, he would _never_ skip mass again.

"There're more of 'em over here!"

Canada looked up from the (completely useless) CPR he was attempting to perform on England and saw Italy hyperventilating on the ground, as a group of muscly sailors surrounded them. One of them, looking the over the two inert bodies lying on the grass, sucked in a breath.

"Cap'n's gonna wanna see this one. Tie 'er up, lads!"

Canada joined Italy on the ground, and they hyperventilated together.

**WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**

**LOOKIT ME, UPDATING THRICE IN TWO DAYS!**

**Why is America such a **_**bitch **_**in this? He's so OOC it **_**hurts.**_

_**God**_** I suck at writing this. I make Pirate!England seem like such a **_**pussy**_**.**

**There will be no selfcest until England wakes up. Sorry. There **_**might**_** be some PruCan and GerIta next chapter, though. *throws pairings at you* HERE. 8I**

**GAIZ GAIZ GAIZ GUESS WHAT**

**DET'S BEING RETARDED AND BLOCKING GOOGLE AND SHIT, BUT dA IS ****UNBLOCKED**

**YEAH**

**UNBLOCKED**

**I have saved so many hetalia fanarts in the last few hours you guys.**

**SO. MANY.**


	4. Chapter 4

Looking around, Germany sighed. If it wasn't for the whole 'nations can't die' thing, he was fairly sure he would have died of a conniption well before now. As it was, he was currently contemplating shooting himself in the head with one of the many guns Eng- no, the British Empire, he corrected himself, had lying around in his tent.

Who left that many guns lying around, anyway? Was the man related to _Switzerland _or something?

He dodged a stray dagger and went to sit near Russia. Not the best of company, admittedly, but it was better than anyone _else_, at the moment. God, even _Japan_ had joined the fray. He didn't blame him- after all, there was only so much snark one could take before they snapped, as Japan was currently demonstrating, but _really_. It was like they'd never left. People were fighting, furniture (or as close as you could get, being in a tent and all) was being destroyed, and weapons were flying through the air. It was as close as you could get to the G8 without _actually being there_. Except, you know, the weapons were actually _sharp._ And there were a whole lot more of them. And okay, _maybe_ the British Empire actually _meant_ half the threats he was spewing, but it wasn't like they could actually _do _anything, since, you know, the nations couldn't exactly _die_.

Except that last one. _That_ one sounded pretty nasty. Where would you even _get _something like that anyway- oh, wait, it was _England._ Well, not England _per se_, but it wasn't like he was any _different_ from the England _he_ knew. And the England _he_ knew _always_ had nasty shit like that in his basement.

Germany shuddered, and derailed that train of thought right there. No use dwelling on the past. He mentally shook himself, and turned to face Russia.

"So," he started weakly, "it's a, um… lovely… day, isn't it?"

Russia smiled at him, and reached up to catch a frantically cheeping Gilbird as it flew past.

Lobbing it back to an equally frantic Prussia, he replied, "But Germany, it's sunset already. Doesn't that mean the day's over?"

Germany opened his mouth to respond, but found that he couldn't quite remember what he was going to say. He settled instead for a eloquently croaked "I- er- um, well, yes." and awkwardly shifted back around to watch the ongoing chaos.

* * *

><p>The British Empire cursed, and dodged some kind of white bird thing that was thrown at his head. <em>Fucking imbeciles.<em> He'd done them the kindness of actually listening to them, hell, he'd even rescued them from _Harry_, and that fucking _frenchie _had gone and groped him _in the middle of his fucking explanation._ He hissed, hurriedly leaping backwards to avoid being stabbed through the leg with one of his own daggers. That was the _last time_ he was _ever_ helping out _any _prisoners _ever again._ They could all _die_ from hanging upside-down, for all _he _cared. He'd seen it. Their heads literally _exploded._ It was quite fun to watch, actually. Even if it _was_ kind of messy.

He dodged a flying potato (how the hell had _that_ got there?) and punched the stupid frog in the stomach, smirking at the subsequent stream of French expletives. Okay, so _maybe_ he had missed fighting everyone else more than he thought.

That still didn't explain how they got here. Or how they would get back. After all, it wasn't like he wanted them to _stay._ He was in the middle of a fucking _rebellion_ here, people.

* * *

><p>Canada wasn't quite sure how he ended up in the tent settlement, but he assumed it had something to do with the fact that he was currently lying on the ground alongside Italy, surrounded by a rather large group of hostile looking sailors. And that one girl, too.<p>

He rolled over and nudged Italy, waking him up from the hysteria-induced trance he'd been in. It wasn't like Italy would be any _help_, but it was better than being stuck next to a comatose Belarus and a dead England.

Wait.

England.

England was _dead_.

_Shit._

* * *

><p>The chaos in the British Empire's tent (or, what was left of it), abruptly stopped as a burly sailor (seriously, what was <em>up<em> with all these sailors? Were they all on _steroids_ or something?) shoved his way into the tent.

"Oi! Cap'n! We foun' som'ing ya' migh' wan' ta' see!"

England- no wait, it was the British Empire, wasn't it, glared at the man from his perch atop a sizeable pile of nations.

"If you hadn't noticed, I'm a little _busy_ here, so just leave it by the entrance."

The man shifted a bit. "Well, y'see, cap'n, its- its kinda, um… impor'an'."

The British Empire's glare intensified.

"Well don't just _stand_ there, man, bring it in!"

The sailor looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, I woul', bu', it migh' be dangerous, an' I don' really like movin' upse' people aroun' too much, 'cause, you know, it kinda makes it worse, an-"

The sailor was cut off as the German brothers, moving as one, rushed out of the slightly tattered tent, leaving the rest of the nations (and the sailor) to stare after them.

"Well," remarked America, slightly shocked by the spectacle, "looks like they found the rest of us."

The British Empire swung round to stare at America. "You mean there are _more_ of you?"

America laughed sheepishly. "Well, yeah, but they're not exactly _dangerous_, I mean, there are only four of them, and two of them are unconscious, so it's not like they could actually, y'know, _do_ anything."

"Hmph. Well, I might as well go and look them over."

The British Empire scooped up a pistol from its resting place in the fabric of the tent floor and stalked out of the tent, muttering something about 'ingrates' and 'exploding heads'. America didn't want to know.

* * *

><p>Prussia shouldered his way through the crowd of sailors, muttering obscenities as he went. <em>Stupid fucking sailors<em>, he thought, giving one a particularly nasty jab with his elbow. _Who the fuck patrols that far up, anyway? Shit, we could have been out of there with the goods in half a minute, if that fucking frenchie had've done what I said._ Prussia elbowed someone else in the gut, and made a note to decimate France's wine collection when he got back. _If_ he ever got back.

Breaking free of the ring of sailors, he made a beeline for Canada, and grabbed him in the hope of maybe calming him down and getting him to speak coherently.

It didn't work.

Instead, Canada grabbed _him_, nearly breaking his ribs, and began babbling hysterically in some sort of mix of French and English about England being _dead_ or some shit like that.

Prussia gingerly patted the top of Canada's head. "Dude. Canada. Nations can't die."

"But- but Germany said that we could be _mortal_ here and England's not breathing and his face has gone a weird greenish colour and he might be _dead_ and _I don't know what to do!_"

Prussia winced. "Canada, bro, you're breaking my ribs. Maybe ease up a little on the bear hug, yeah?"

Canada let go of him immediately and began hyperventilating.

Prussia sighed. Crouching down beside him, he put an arm around Canada in a sort of awkward, one-armed hug. "Look, Canada, I'm sure he'll be fine. He's been though worse, and it's not like he's wounded or anything."

Canada nodded, calming down.

Prussia looked over to where Germany was, only to find him attempting to calm a hysterically crying Italy down. He snickered. His brother was _so_ whipped.

There was a shout from behind him, and he turned around to see the sailors scatter. The British Empire casually sauntered over to them.

"Well now, what do we have here?"

He raised a massive eyebrow, surveying the rather weak-looking nations.

"They don't _look_ too dangerous to me."

Prussia glared at him. "Look, asshole, I just got Canada calmed down, and I don't want you scaring the shit out of him. Go annoy West or something."

The British Empire glared right back at him. "I'll 'annoy' whoever the hell I want to, bitch."

A choking sound coming from beside Prussia made them look over.

Canada was frozen in shock, staring up at the man who looked like England's clone. As Prussia watched, he turned a sickly shade of white and fainted. Prussia stared down at the comatose nation in his lap.

"Well, _shit._"

* * *

><p>The British Empire shrugged and sauntered off to where Germany and what looked like Italy were having an intense bonding moment. It wasn't like it was <em>his<em> fault the kid (what had Prussia called him? Canadia?) had fainted upon his arrival. These nations-from-another-world were just _weaklings_.

Something caught his eye as he crossed the circle. A few strands of platinum-blonde hair, wafting in the breeze. He froze.

_Holy shit._

* * *

><p>The sound of a gunshot rang through the air.<p>

Spain froze where he was as the British Empire advanced on him, holding what looked very much like a loaded pistol.

"Explain. Now."

He pointed to the inert form lying on the ground. Spain swallowed, trying his hardest not to turn and run.

"W-What do you mean? It's- That's, um, Belarus, isn't it?"

The British Empire looked ready to shoot someone. Namely, Spain.

"Well of _course_ it's Belarus, you fucking moron! What _I_ want to know is _why_ you brought her into my camp!"

"…What?"

The British Empire twitched. "What I want to know," he began, "is why, and _how_, you managed to bring the _most dangerous person on the face of the planet_ into my _camp._ Or is that too complicated for your stupid fucking brain to comprehend?"

Spain stared at him blankly, attempting (and failing) to process the sight of the loaded gun shoved directly in his face. His mouth opened and closed a few times, like a demented goldfish that had eaten too many tomatoes.

"…What?"

The British Empire's expression darkened, and his finger tightened on the trigger.

"Last chance, moron." he hissed, menace radiating from every line of his body. "_Explain."_

Spain stared at him, his brain broken.

"I- er- but, that's _Belarus._ What do you mean, _explain_?"

The British Empire growled at him.

And Spain, being the complete and utter moron that he is, smiled right back at him.

For the second time that day, a gunshot rang through the air.

* * *

><p><strong>HAHAHAHAHAHAHA CLIFFHANGERRRRR<strong>

**/shot repeatedly**

**I don't really have much to say about this chapter, other than I seem to be getting worse at writing.**

**BEAR WITH ME, PEOPLE.**

**Okay, unrelated rant time.**

**For all those aspiring writers out there, I have one thing to say to you.**

**THE PRESENT TENSE OF 'LOST' IS NOT, HAS NEVER BEEN, AND NEVER **_**WILL**_** BE, 'LOOSE'**

**THAT IS A COMPLETELY. DIFFERENT. WORD.**

**The present tense of 'lost' is'lose'.**

'**Loose' means 'to not be tight'; 'to be free with money, sexual favours or other things' or 'to fasten something in such a way that it is not tight'; for example, "I tied my shoelaces very badly and they are now ****loose****" or "That is a ****loose**** woman; stay away from her". Seriously you guys, I take **_**standard. fucking. English.**_** And I **_**still**_** know the difference. PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR ENGLISH TEACHER. THEY KNOW THINGS.**

**Now, I know a lot of you don't make this mistake, and I'm probably doing that generalising thing again and lumping you all into one category, but this just makes me **_**so pissed.**_** It **_**ruins**_** good fanfics.**

**That is all.**


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